


Old Scars

by Liana_Angel



Series: River of Hope [2]
Category: Leverage, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Eliot Spencer is Fenrir, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort (kinda), Multi, References to Torture, Vague references to other norse characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liana_Angel/pseuds/Liana_Angel
Summary: An interlude, and Hardison's thoughts on Eliot as Parker, Hardison, and Eliot get closer.





	Old Scars

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a lot more Leverage-centric than the first one.

Eliot got hurt - again - jumping in front of Hardison, taking a bullet, and the damn fool argues with Hardison when he tries to clean the gunshot wound up (being around Eliot meant Hardison had to learn how to stitch up wounds unless he wanted to watch his friend bleed out since Eliot always refuses to go to a hospital - Hardison wonders if he’s had bad experiences in them).  Eliot said it’s fine, it doesn’t actually hurt, says to look at the few scratches Parker has, but he was bleeding all over Lucille even with the bunched up fabric he held over it, and that’s where Hardison draws the line.  Plus, Parker’s fine.  Sure, she has some cuts, but as soon as the con was over she started _grinning_ , so he’s not worried about her.  So Eliot finally gave in (Elliot’s stubborn, but so is Hardison), and helps get the first aid kit out.  

Just before picking up what he needs, Hardison realizes that the wound’s on his _chest_ , realizes that he’s never had to fix a wound on his chest (Hardison thinks, later, that that was on purpose - that Eliot was careful to hide what was under his shirt) - and fuck, he’ll have to take off his shirt (and it’s no secret to the rest of the team that Hardison has been looking at _that_ for a while whenever Eliot wears tight shirts, whenever he’s fighting, and his muscles…).  But Hardison swallows those feelings and continues preparing the bandages.  He doesn’t even know if Eliot’s gay, if Eliot at all thinks the same way about him.  Plus, he has Parker, but Parker’s _Parker_ , he reminds himself _._   Chances are she doesn’t have any idea of the differences between monogamy and polyamory.  If anyone would be alright with his crush on Eliot, it’d be Parker.  Also, he thinks he’s seen her looking too.  But then again, she’s Parker,  Even he doesn’t know what’s happening in her head half the time.

Sometimes he thinks Eliot protects him more than the others on jobs, sure, but that’s his job.  He protects all of them.  Hardison’s not special.  It’s just that Hardison’s the hacker, he’s the one who can’t shoot a gun, he’s the one who _needs_ the protection.

Eliot lifts up his shirt, and there’s old tattoos - faded and rough - covering even older scars, and Hardison _knows_ what Eliot did before he joined them (what he still does, for them), and he expected scars, but these are worse than anything he expected.  He expected the old knife wounds, the ones that look like they came from a fight, short and messy scars, but he didn’t expect the long, careful, cuts.  The ones that look like they were put there intentionally.  They cover his back, some covered by scars, but some he can still see clearly, and it looks like someone carved intentional designs into his back. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the part of Hardison that’s not angry at and terrified about whoever did this to his friend wonders if the designs mean anything.  He’s seen some of the scars before - Eliot doesn’t hide the ones around his wrists, pale and white and wrapped entirely around his wrists - but now he sees how they circle up his arms, almost seeming to constrict the muscle there. _They look like someone tortured him,_ he finds himself thinking, and Eliot turns towards him, staring at his reaction, silently daring him to say something.  So Hardison just grabs the bandages and gets to work wrapping the cut, but he can’t help but run his hand over one of the tattoos - a long looping pattern that looks almost like a Celtic knot - and wonders what it means.

When he’s done, Eliot grabs his shirt and pulls it on quickly, as if he doesn’t want Hardison to see any longer than he has to.

———

Later, when Nate said that they were taking a night off, and Hardison dragged Parker and Eliot over to the TV to watch Star Trek (and really, how could neither of them have ever seen it?), Eliot’s shirt rides up a bit as he leans against them for support, and Parker’s eye catches one of the old tattoos.

“Tattoos,” she says, tracing it with a finger.  “You have tattoos?”  Bright eyes meet Eliot’s just as he bats her hand away.

“You don’t just touch people,” he growls, and Hardison has to hold in a laugh, because they _always_ touch each other.  Even now, with Eliot’s arm resting on Hardison and Parker’s head on Eliot’s leg - even now, even though Eliot always insists he needs space after getting hurt - they’re touching, curled around each other because, by this point, it’s strange if they don’t.  And even after saying that, Eliot doesn’t move, doesn’t push them away.

Parker, of course, doesn’t listen, and just pulls his shirt up more, to mid-chest, as Hardison forces himself to _not look_.  Because if he looks at the tattoos, he looks at how Eliot’s shirt is riding up more, he looks at his muscles under the shirt, and he doesn’t need that now, not when he’s tangled up on the couch with his girlfriend and the guy he has a crush and they’re both treating it like this is a completely normal situation to be in _._   “They look old,” she says, in her strange, bluntly straightforward way.

“They are,” Eliot answers, leaning back, giving up any hope of getting Parker to stop.  

“They mean something?”  Hardison finally asks the question he’s been wondering since he first saw them.

Eliot hesitates a moment, then said quietly - so quietly they barely hear “Family.”

“You’ve never talked about your family before.”  Parker draws back, and, no matter what others say about her, Hardison knows she can tell when something’s a touchy subject.  Especially with the team.

“Yeah, well…” If Hardison didn’t know Eliot better, he’d say his voice was cracking, but Eliot’s voice never cracked.  “They’re gone now.”  And he pulls his shirt down, hiding the tattoos once more, and gets up.

Parker follows him, obviously still curious, but she knows better than to push too much when it comes to Eliot.  That’s never ended well.

“Lunch?”  Eliot asks, and Hardison knows he’s changing the subject, but he’s hungry, and they’ve been eating takeout pizza for days now, and Eliot’s cooking sounds _wonderful_ , so he lets him.

———

There’s times that Hardison wonders about Eliot.  About his past.  He knows some of it, but he wonders how much more there is, how much worse what he doesn’t know is.  

They’re sitting around after a case, and Nate’s talking about Jimmy Ford and his upbringing in the bar, Parker’s talking about Archie, and Hardison’s recounting his early hacks he pulled to get money for his Nana.  Sophie’s just listening, she never talks about herself, but she turns and asks Eliot about his parents.

Eliot’s quiet for a second, and Hardison stops rambling just as Parker stares at Hardison and asks, “Your tattoos are about your family, right?”

There’s no warning before Eliot tenses up.   “My family’s none of your damn business.”  He slams the beer he’s holding and gets up before anyone can stop him, flees to the edge of the room, arms crossed and shoulders tense.  And that’s not the same look he gets when he talks about past jobs he did for people like Moreau.  That’s not guilt over the people he killed.  That’s pain and anger and fear, and Hardison’s heart breaks a little at seeing Eliot hurting like that, and he wonders if his scars have anything to do with why he won’t talk about this.  He knows that if he had scars like that (made by someone who knew what they were doing, and who took their time with it), he’d be terrified of whatever caused them.

“Don’t matter anyway,” He said, quietly, quietly enough Hardison’s pretty sure they weren’t meant to hear it.  “Not like anything can be done anyway.”

They do hear it though, and Sophie gets up and walks towards him (slowly, Hardison notes, like you’d walk up to a scared animal).  “Did something happen to them?”

“Yeah,” Eliot says after what feels like forever, swallowing thickly.  “Long time ago.  Someone fucked us over.  Someone I used to trust.”  For anyone else, admitting that’d be nothing, but Hardison knows that’s more than Eliot’s probably opened up to anyone in a long time.  There’s a reason Eliot doesn’t tell them much, and it’s not because he doesn’t trust them specifically.  He trusts them more than he trusts most.  It’s just that he doesn’t trust in general.

Parker might not always get emotions, but she’s seemed to have tuned into Eliot more lately, and she hears the hurt in his voice, and walks up to him and promptly wraps her arms around him, ignoring it when he tenses up and just waiting for him to reciprocate.  

When he does, Hardison comes up too, and watches out the corner of his eye as Sophie quietly herds Nate away, knowing they need this time to themselves. (They might not be together - even though Hardison _wishes_ they were - but they’re close, closer than any of them are with Sophie and Nate)

“Whatever happened to them, you got another family,” Hardison says into Eliot’s hair.  “You got us.”

———

They first have sex right after a case, when they’re riding on the high of getting a job done.  They have beers out, but they’re not drunk yet, Parker and Hardison haven’t drank that much, and Eliot never seems to actually get _drunk_ , just a little buzzed, and Hardison wonders if that’s just how he is or some survival instinct he’s learned (because if anyone could teach themselves to not get drunk, it’d be Eliot).  Nate and Sophie have gone off to their room, and Hardison’s grinning at Eliot, and Parker catches both of their eyes.

“Let’s have sex,” she says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  And maybe it is, Hardison thinks.  After all, they’re already practically together - they’re almost always touching when they’re not on a job, they trust each other more than any of them have trusted anyone else, and - hell - they even _sleep_ together sometimes, when Eliot’s nightmares get bad (not that he ever tells them what they’re about), or when Parker decides she needs someone next to her to hold. 

Eliot’s eyes snap over to hers, calculating, but he doesn’t outright say now, which Hardison honestly was worried he might.  But Eliot’s grown softer over the years they’ve worked together, and Hardison can see where some of the walls he’s put up are falling down.

Eliot doesn’t say no.  Instead, he looks over at Hardison, who just nods, and Parker grins and pulls Eliot into a kiss, and Hardison watches as he just melts into her arms.  Hardison follows as Eliot pulls her into the bedroom ( _their_ bedroom), and he can’t help but think that Eliot finally looks like he belongs.  That they just fit together perfectly.

———

Eliot’s more relaxed after that.  He still looks behind them when they’re walking down the street, as if waiting for someone to attack them, but that’s unconscious, and he’s stopped acting like something’ll take them away from him at any moment.  He stops acting like what they have together is temporary.

He still doesn’t talk about his family, and Hardison wonders what could be so bad that Eliot won’t tell them, when he’s told them everything else about his past, even the bloody, _awful_ parts with Moreau that used to make Hardison scared, and still makes him want to throw up when he thinks about it too much.  But Hardison doesn’t push (and, thankfully, neither does Parker).

Sometimes Hardison thinks he sees people staring at Eliot, some angry, some fearful, but when he turns to face them, they’re gone.  (There’s man who he always sees during thunderstorms, another with hair covering one eye, and another with only one hand - he comes the most often.  And others, countless others, some who only come once, some who disappear so quickly he can’t see them)  Sometimes he swears the tattoos on Eliot’s back move, or thinks he sees the white scars on his wrist pull tight, and Eliot seems to wince.  Sometimes he can see thin white cords trailing out from the scars, but he shakes that thought off, telling himself he’s just been at his computer too long, and that he needs sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have sort of an idea of what I want the overarching plot for this series to be! But I probably won't get anything else up for a few weeks now because of finals.


End file.
